


Noctis x Reader: His Treasure

by louisvuittontrashbags



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassin's Festival DLC, Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13564023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisvuittontrashbags/pseuds/louisvuittontrashbags
Summary: An AU inspired by the Assassin's Festival DLC--Assassin Noctis, set in a Middle Eastern version of Insomnia, falls for a bellydancer.





	Noctis x Reader: His Treasure

 

You take a deep breath, sneaking a peek through the doorway into the grand sitting room ahead of you. It’s a rare honor to be invited to dance for the king and his advisors, and you’re determined not to waste the opportunity. As you wait for the drums to begin, signaling your entrance, you allow yourself to take in the scene before you, knowing you won’t have much time to appreciate it during your performance.

The room is grand, no surprise considering that it’s a palace, but its beauty still takes your breath away. Gorgeous mosaics decorate the floor and walls, and the sound of running water from the fountain in the center of the room catches your ear. The room is open to the outdoors, revealing a vast expanse of twinkling stars—but the room is still fairly well-lit thanks to several lanterns. You couldn’t ask for a better stage.

One of Noctis’s advisers, Gladiolus Al-Amicitia, takes a deep drag of his hookah, blowing the smoke into the air. _One of the most popular men in Noctis’s circle… well, the kingdom, probably. Tall, dark and handsome… that physique, coupled with his friendly, flirty personality… he’s trouble._

“It’s about time you had a night off, Your Excellency.”

The king bristles at his comment. Your heart catches in your throat at the sight of him. _Noctis Al-Qaylum._ He keeps his beard shorter than most of the men in the kingdom, but the style suits him. As your eyes roam over the fabric of his robes, you can’t help but wonder what sort of body hides beneath it. _Not that I’ll ever find out. Gods help me, though… I want to._

“You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, Gladio. I don’t see why this is necessary. I’m doing just fine.”

A blonde man leans forward, putting a hand on the king’s shoulder. _Prompto Argentum—foreign born, but raised in our kingdom. His blonde hair, pale skin, and freckles make him stand out quite a bit next to all the dark-haired, bearded, tanned men of this area. He’s quite popular among the court._

“You’ll do even better if you let yourself slow down and relax, Noctis. You don’t want to endanger your missio-“

“Prompto.” A single word silences the blond. Ignis Ibn Scientia, another rarity with his tawny hair and green eyes, puts a warning hand on Prompto’s shoulder, and his eyes flick towards the doorway. You withdraw out of sight, your heart pounding in your chest. _I should be preparing anyway… here we go, Y/N._

The sound of the drums starting up sends a surge of adrenaline through you, and you get to work, stepping into the doorway and striking a dramatic pose, hips popping to the beat as you announce your presence. Prompto claps delightedly, and Gladio sits back, draping an arm over the cushion behind him. “Hmm… come here and show your king a good time.”

“She’s not a prostitute, Gladio…” Prompto pouts, but Gladio blows a cloud of smoke at him.

“There’s more than one way to have a good time, Prompto. But that way ain’t bad either.”

Ignis observes you with a dispassionate gaze, taking in your dancing as though it were nothing more than a few fancy steps. _A tough nut to crack… but that’s okay. I’m not here for you, Ignis._ You smile at Prompto and Gladio, but you feel a jolt of heat run through your body when you make eye contact with the king. 

He’s not smiling like the other two—his gaze is so intense you feel as though you’re liable to burst into flames at any moment. One hand tightens into a fist, but he never tears his eyes from you. As you get closer, his friends clap and cheer, encouraging you to move towards him, but Noctis never says a thing. He only watches you with that same heated stare.

You’re used to men hooting and hollering, but this is something else entirely. Certainly you’ve danced for patrons who had no interest in you, but that’s not what this is either. Perhaps you’re only reading what you want into this… but you know the signs of desire when you see them. _Could the king really be interested in me? He must have had all kinds of rare beauties and talented dancers before him…_

You hold the men’s attention for a few songs, but Gladio and Prompto grow more and more animated over the course of your performance. “Do that one again, _habibti_ … hold that pose for me one more time.” Gladio’s amber eyes sweep over your body, settling on the curve of your hips, and Prompto snatches the hookah right out of his hand, taking a long drag of his own.

“Don’t let him tell you what to do!! You’re doing so great on your own… ahh… you’re so good at this.”

You smile at both men, giving them an extra little pop of your chest, but the king surprises you by speaking, his rich voice carrying even over the loud drums.

“Leave us.”

You freeze in place, the drummer stops. You sink into a bow. “Your Excellency, I apologize if my dancing-”

“No. Not you. The rest.”

Ignis rises without another word, tapping Prompto on the shoulder. Prompto pouts, but he follows behind Ignis. “Aww… I was having fun.”

Gladio is the last of the advisors to leave, giving you a smirk before he goes. The drummer hesitates, but Noctis waves him away. You take a deep breath, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice.

“Y-Your Highness… I cannot dance without music.”

“Both of us know that’s not true. Continue.”

You step back into your routine, shaking your hips to a beat in your mind. _Since it’s just the king and I now… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get a little bolder._ Your legs carry you forward, shaking and winding your hips with every step. Noctis watches you as intensely as ever, sitting back against the cushions. His lips are parted, and you find yourself feeling emboldened by his actions. You lean over and wind your torso in a circle, bending low over his lap and back around again, smiling at the sharp exhale your actions draw from him.

You reach out to beckon to him, moving with all the grace years as a dancer affords you; you flow like water, letting your hand brush across his thigh right above his knee, but something stops you from pulling your hand back.

The king’s strong hand is wrapped around your delicate wrist, holding you in place. 

“Don’t.” 

“Your Excellency…”

“If you continue… I will be unable to hold myself back any longer.”

Your pulse thuds in your ears as you consider your next course of action—well, consider would be inaccurate. Everything in your body is screaming out for your king, and you’re not certain you can hold yourself back from what he appears to be offering… _or threatening._

You keep your voice as even as possible. “I’d hate for you to hold back… all I want is for you to enjoy yourself.”

His grip on your wrist loosens, and you glide your fingertips along his thigh, never breaking eye contact with him. He takes in a breath, then suddenly his lips are on yours, and it’s everything you’d hoped and more. He pulls you down into his lap, kissing you with a heat that takes your breath away. You can already feel his arousal beneath the fabric of his robes; the knowledge that the king wants you is both terrifying and thrilling.

His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer, and you let your hand wander down his chest and into his lap to squeeze at the bulge you feel beneath you, but he pauses at that. “…what is your name?”

“…Y/N.”

“Beautiful.”

The climb up the stairs to his private wing is both the longest and shortest of your life. He leads you gently but firmly by the hand, saying nothing until you reach his room. When he pushes the door open you can only gasp—you’ve been in some lavish places, but nothing could have prepared you for the king’s room. 

Gold and jewels glitter in every corner; the wealth casually displayed in this room is almost vulgar. The king leads you to an ornately decorated bed—the sheets are softer than anything you’ve ever felt, and the headboard appears to be made of solid gold. You shiver as you contemplate your position once more; the imbalance between your stations couldn’t be more clear as you look at your surroundings. And yet still, those intense blue eyes were focused on you as though you were the only thing of value in a room that contained entire kingdoms’ worth of riches.

The king leads you to the bed, his eyes softening for a brief moment. “…you don’t have to do this. I may be your king, but I am still a man. You may refuse me freely.”

You reach out to stroke his cheek with a shaking hand. “…I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He smiles at you, suddenly sweet, before leaning in for a tender kiss. His beard tickles at your skin, and you find yourself wondering how his facial hair must feel along the soft skin of your thighs. When you lower your hands to pull at his robes, his kiss takes on its earlier heat. His tongue delves into your mouth, sending the heat pooling into your belly as his hands squeeze at your curves.

He pulls away without warning, pushing you down onto his extravagant bed and removing his robes with both grace and speed. He lets them fall away from him into a heap on the ground, stepping forward to pull you back into his arms. 

He pauses when he sees you examining his body. “You would stare so brazenly at your king?” When you begin to stammer out an apology he laughs, crawling down onto the bed to lean over you for another kiss.

“I should not tease you so, but the way you blush… I cannot help myself.”

He presses his bare body against yours, but frowns at the feel of your sequined top scratching at his chest. His hands fumble with the clasp of your top, and it’s your turn to laugh. “Please… allow me.”

You slip out of your top in seconds, tossing it over the side of the ornate headboard. Noct’s eyes darken with desire as he looks over your bare form. His hands are on your breasts immediately, cupping the soft flesh and pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

He lets out a quiet groan, biting his lip at the feel of you beneath his palms. “Exquisite…”

His eyes slide down your form to your skirt, and you’ve already beaten him to the punch, unhooking a clasp on the side and lifting your skirt to reveal a pair of sequined panties. The king hooks his fingers through the waistband, looking to you for a brief moment before shimmying them down at the clear assent in your eyes. When your sex is revealed to him you can hear his breath catch in his throat; he only just manages to slide your panties down your hips and off your body before he buries his face in your mound.

You gasp, arching beneath him as he opens his mouth to taste you intimately. The very idea that the _King of Lucis’s_ tongue is the one that now explores every inch of you, every curve and fold, has you biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut; when Noct’s eager muscle finally makes contact with your clit you can’t stop the lewd moan that tears itself from your lips. He answers you with one of his own, the sound muffled by the flesh of your mound. You want so badly to knock the keffiyeh off his head and tangle your fingers in his hair, but you aren’t certain how one touches a king.

Noctis seems to sense your hesitation and the cause of it, because one hand leaves your thigh to grab your wrist, releasing your grip on the sheets beneath you and guiding you to thread your fingers through his black hair. 

You stifle a gasp at the feel of his hair—it’s so silky and smooth; unsurprising for royalty perhaps, but it’s so lovely between your fingers you have to give yourself a moment to enjoy the sensation. It flows like some exotic fabric between the cracks of your fingers. When you tug, hesitantly, he answers you with a quiet groan. Feeling emboldened, you tug harder, pushing the keffiyeh from his head and sending it fluttering to the floor. 

When he looks up at you your heart leaps into your throat as you anticipate his redress, but you only see lust reflected in his eyes. “Do not treat me as though I’m made of glass. I have invited you into my bed… so I invite your touch. _Touch me, Y/N._ ” 

His words ignite something wild within you; you pull him down to your sex again, guiding him back down with a firm grip on his hair. He sucks your clit into his mouth and you clamp down on his head with your thighs, marveling at your own boldness. But every brazen touch only seems to drive him onward; he tastes every inch of your slick folds, his tongue delving into your sex as though you were another one of the many fine dishes on his royal plate. You guide him to where you want him but he finds every weak point with no trouble whatsoever; it’s as though he’d known you for years.

When he pushes his tongue into your entrance it takes all of your self-control not to cry out loud enough for the entire palace to hear you. He works you expertly; you’d expect this level of experience from someone like Gladiolus, a renowned playboy. Certainly you’d expected the king would have had his pick of women and many chances to practice, but the stories were that his appetites were not nearly as deep as his predecessors. Tales are still told about the orgies his father used to host, but Noctis has made it clear his priorities lie elsewhere. Even so, here he is, eating your pussy like a man starved, fucking you with his tongue and working your clit with a calloused thumb. 

You writhe beneath your king’s attentions, all breathless gasps and wanton moans as your orgasm begins to build. Those intense blue eyes are laser-focused on you all the while; you can feel them burning through you even when you close your eyes, losing yourself in the ecstasy of your release. 

When you open your eyes again, Noctis has left the bed. Curious, you watch him cross the room to stand before a pile of jewelry. He paws through it as though he’s looking for something in particular; when he turns back towards you with his prize you have to cover your mouth to stifle a gasp. 

An obscenely large ruby hangs from a thick gold chain, interspersed with smaller gemstones. The necklace must be worth more than all the money you’ve ever seen in your entire life up to this point, but he holds it casually, as though this was an everyday item. He sits by your side, taking your hand to lift you up into a seated position. He leans in to kiss you sweetly before placing the necklace over your head. 

The necklace is impossibly heavy, but your body feels lighter than air beneath it. “…Your Grace?”

“A desert jewel like yourself should be draped in all the gold her heart desires. I will make you a gift of anything you like, but the red and gold are so beautiful with your hair…”

“It’s so beautiful… but I couldn’t possibly-“

“Stop.” He reaches out to cover your lips with one finger. “I will not hear of it. You have given me so much, allow me to give you this in return. I have only one condition.”

“I will do my best-“

“You must wear it for me now.”

“…I believe I can manage that.”

“Actually, there’s one more.”

“Your Highness?”

“…unless you are referring to me as your king, in that sweet, breathless gasp… call me Noctis.”

“Noctis…”

“Beautiful. Just like that.”

His lips are on yours again before you can answer any further, your essence still coating his lips and chin. He breaks away from you only to shed his pants and undergarments, returning to the bed with minimal interruption. His strong arms are rolling you over and suddenly you’re astride him, trying to figure out how on earth you managed to find yourself straddling the King of Lucis.

“Noctis,” you whisper, testing his name out again, and he smiles. 

“Don’t keep your king waiting, Y/N.”

His words seem pointed, but there’s a twinkle of fondness in his eyes, and any remaining doubts vanish. You ease yourself into position and sit back onto his cock slowly, a stuttering exhale leaving you as he stretches you intimately. The king’s length is large, but not overwhelming. Your bodies fit together as though you were created for each other; you adjust to him inside of you quickly and you begin to ride him, bracing your hands on the lean muscle of his chest.

He watches you through a haze of lust, gazing up at you from beneath hooded eyelids. His hands grip your thighs, less to steady you and more exercising his dominion over you. His hips thrust up into you but he’s watching you, allowing you to direct the encounter. You get the sense that he’s enjoying the sight of you in his jewelry more than the actual ride.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his eyes searing into your skin, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs. You decide to give him a show, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them together, kneading and rolling them in your hands as you ride him slowly. When you look down at him to see the effects of your little tease, you’re surprised to see that his eyes have taken on a tinge of red.

“…Noctis?” You’re not sure what to make of this development, so you gamely press on, taking one of his hands from your thigh and raising his index finger to your lips, sucking with your eyes trained on his. Whatever’s going on, your actions only seem to be amplifying it. The red in his eyes is beginning to scare you, but he shows no signs of distress… only a raw, animal-like hunger. 

An eternity seems to pass as you regard each other, his finger still in your mouth, before he yanks the digit from your grasp, curling his hands around your hips and thrusting up into you furiously. The necklace, heavy as it is, bounces against your chest with every vigorous stroke upward. You toss your head back, assaulted by pleasure but still determined to give your king the show he deserves.

“Ah… Noctis… my king…”

Your words only seem to rile him further. He grabs your arms, pinning them at your side as he fucks you even harder, his voice coming out in a growl. “You’ll never dance for another man like you danced for me.” 

It’s not a request; it’s a statement of fact. You shake your head vehemently. While it’s true that you’re hardly in a position to argue, your mind can’t imagine a future where you aren’t in thrall to the overwhelming pleasure only your king can provide. 

“No… never… ahnh!”

“When you wear this necklace you’ll think of your king and how he fucked you until your pleasured cries echoed around the palace.”

“Yes! Yes! Noctis, please!”

“When your need grows too strong, you’ll wear my jewels and touch yourself, watching yourself in the looking-glass and desperately wishing for your king’s cock to fill you like this again.”

“Yes, Gods yes! Noctis! A-aahh, Noctis!”

“Come for me—unravel before me once more.”

You come again with your king’s name on your lips, squeezing your thighs around his waist as you tumble over the precipice of your orgasm. Noctis rides you hard through your release, chasing his own as the red in his eyes spurs him onward. He finally comes with a growl, emptying his royal seed deep inside of you. A part of you wonders nervously about any possible consequences, but another part of you feels a thrill of excitement at the sheer recklessness of it all. 

When he pulls you down off of him you notice that the red has disappeared from his eyes, and his demeanor has changed entirely. He kisses you tenderly, his hands tangling in your hair and roaming over your curves. He seems a bit sheepish. “In the heat of the moment… I may have said some things that sounded a bit… extreme.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, brushing a lock of hair from the king’s forehead. “…did you mean it?”

He regards you in silence for a moment, then nods, looking to you for your reaction. When you smile, a slow smile spreads across his handsome face in return. “You would forsake all others for me? After one night?”

You nod, letting your fingers dance across his cheek. “I’ve met many men in my work… but I’ve never felt so drawn to anyone like this. There’s something about you…”

“My title, perhaps?”

  
You shake your head adamantly. “No. Ah… no offense, Your Gra-… Noctis. I’ve known many powerful men, and none of them held my interest. The jewels and silks and all are nice, but…”

“Go on.”

“…you’re a far greater prize than any of those things.”

“You know nothing about me.” His words are factual, without judgment or suspicion, but the way he looks at you tells another story.

“You know even less of me, my king.”

“No.” His eyes are intense again, the softness giving way to hard certainty. “You are like no woman I have ever seen… and I have seen quite a few. The way  you dance… you are positively entrancing. I could watch you for the rest of my life. The thought of any other man experiencing your magic… it is selfish, but I cannot abide it.”

You nestle yourself into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his muscled chest. “I’ll dance happily for you for the rest of my days, my king.”

He kisses the top of your head, pulling you closer. “My treasure… please. Call me Noctis.”

 


End file.
